


Hard days and long nights

by FanaticRuby



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, watch them be fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:49:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanaticRuby/pseuds/FanaticRuby
Summary: This is a small collection of ficlets and/or one-shots that were either prompted to me or which I came up with myself. It is basically the life of the Assassins (and Templars...) outside of what we've seen and heard in the games, with a pinch of fluff and sometimes smut, some angst and it's basically chaos. Enjoy.





	1. Chapter 1

I was seasick, first of all, had never been able to stomach the ups and downs of the ocean throwing the ship around as though it were a ball to play with rather than a vessel filled with actual people. Clutching my stomach, I had taken it upon myself to stand at the very front of the Morrigan, staring at the horizon in hopes of spotting my beloved home once more. After the turbulences in the colonies, I had decided it was the safest place for me to be for now, in the small cottage my grandparents had left to me upon their passing. A place where my husband wouldn't get a hold of me even if he tried.

Sean. Thoughts of him still haunted me; living in New York since my earliest childhood, I had no way of affording passage back to Ireland when my father died, Mum already having passed giving birth to my little sister, who hadn't survived her by more than a week. It's incredible how much you can love someone in just a few days, and even more so how much their loss would pain you. So, at the age of seventeen, I had married Sean, who had been sweet and gentle enough in the beginning, always speaking of how he wanted a family with me, to build a life together. Things went south fast enough, though; after losing our first child just a few months into the pregnancy, he was quick to try and force himself on me again – and I let him. What else did I have left but to obey? Our second child died in childbirth, and if it hadn't been for the care of Mrs. Finnegan, I would have, too. She had me stay at theirs so I wouldn't be a burden to Sean as he went about his daily business, sensing that there was something going wrong at home. It was there that I was introduced to Shay, who had also been staying there to be taken care of, but I soon went home again, trying to resume my normal life.

Honestly, I'd come to care for him. Shay, I mean. It didn't take long for him to start accompanying me to the market every now and again, and we became fast friends. He saw the bruises Sean left on my arms and neck, noticed how my lower lip was regularly split open from my husband's rough handling, but again and again I asked Shay to stay his hand, to not do anything about it. That things would get better once we'd had a child. Perhaps that was what I wanted to believe. Now, at the age of twenty-four, I had lost four children in total, and taken more hits than most women my age did from their husbands. It was after my fourth miscarriage, about a year ago, that Shay took me under his protection more actively, his looming presence enough to scar Sean from raising a hand to me again, laying his hands on me against my will. I had come to terms with the fact that I would probably never have children, but my husband hadn't, and began drinking shortly after, coming home late and beating me for not being over the moon about him coming home at all.  
Then I fled into Shay's arms and the Finnegans' home, hiding away from Sean, hurt by how the man I had once loved could have become this monster. And Shay, my only friend, understood, listened, was there whenever his business trips allowed it. We had soon become lovers, another mark of shame upon me – not only had I proven to be incapable of giving my husband a child, now I was also an adulteress. It felt good though, being loved again, treasured, cared for, and I couldn't bring myself to feel sorry for it even if I wanted to. In all regards but one, we had come to think of each other as husband and wife, lived together for a while, even.

I turned back, looking at the helm, where Shay stood tall, waving as he noticed me staring. I sent him a small smile before turning back, trying to concentrate on the smell of the clean, salty air, pulling my cloak tighter around me for protection against the sudden gusts or wind tangling my hair and chilling my body. None of the regular crewmen spoke to me, their belief of women on board of a ship being unlucky too strong to convince them otherwise. It was fine by me, to be honest. The attentions of lowly deckhands who didn't know how to behave would've been too much for me to bear anyway. They would have reminded me of the traumatic years I was trying to forget with every mile we got between us and New York. Shay had already told me he'd provide for me and our child, should it, god-willing, survive, but I wasn't going to let him pay all my expenses even if he wanted to. In New York, I'd been a good enough seamstress, and planned on remaining as such in Galway, tailoring dresses for the English ladies living there with their husbands now because, apparently, the biggest problem Ireland was facing was too many Irishmen. They would pay well, I was sure, and with a job of my own, I wouldn't be too dependent on Shay's money, should he be befallen by misfortune or, God forbid, die on a mission.

I hadn't realised he'd left the helm before I saw his broad frame in the corner of my eye, gently leaning on him as he placed his arm around my shoulders. “You alright there, lass?”, he asked, looking me up and down, his gaze stopping for a good few of seconds on my slightly swollen stomach. I nodded, locking my arms around his waist in holding onto him, closing my eyes for a moment and breathing in his scent, so distinctly him that I immediately felt at ease. “I just hope we'll be home soon”, I answered quietly, and he chuckled a bit, rubbing his large hand over my back before placing a soft kiss on the top of my head.

“I like that word”, he said. I furrowed my brows, looking up at him, confused by what he meant, as he explained. “Home.” It was a tingly sensation that spread inside my stomach at his explanation, and I smiled brightly, just gazing at him a moment longer than was actually necessary. Of course I was scared, for myself and this child growing within me, knowing that I'd lost so many already almost making me stay in New York if just to avoid the risk of travelling. It had been Cassidy who had convinced me that a fresh start would be far healthier than letting fear rule me, and it had been her who had accompanied me to the harbour to bid me farewell. Shay had already been waiting aboard the Morrigan, getting everything ready to go as soon as I arrived, and we had set sail the moment he had loaded what little belongings I had into the captain's cabin.

“How much longer do you think we'll be at sea?”, I asked, eager to set foot on dry land, ground that didn't move.  
He shrugged. “A few more days perhaps, if the wind is with us. Otherwise... a week, maybe two.” I had lost all sense of time here, numbly nodding at his words. We could've been at sea for a year and the only thing refuting that would have been the fact that our child wasn't born yet, it could've been three days and I would have believed it.

We sailed through the night this time, my clearly expressed wish to finally come home obviously having some effect on Shay, and it wasn't until the early hours of the morning that I felt him sneak into bed with me, his arm snaking its way around my body, pulling me closer to him as he buried his face in my hair. I could feel his warm breath on the base of my neck, his hand ghosting over my form before coming to protectively rest upon my belly. “Maureen”, he mumbled, hardly understandable through the thick layer of tiredness in his voice. It was a marvel though, how he managed to sound so warm and loving, his lilting accent, the same as mine, sneaking its way into the marrow of my bones, making me his long before we had first kissed.  
I only moved my head slightly to catch a glimpse of him, asking “Maureen what?” quietly as to not startle him. That wasn't my name, clearly, but I was rather sure that he wasn't saying some random woman's name when coming to our bed.  
“For our daughter”, he explained, caressing the small bump that had already formed from our child growing within me, and kissed my cheek lovingly. “Let's call her Maureen.” His kisses, feathered all the way from my cheek to behind my ear and down my neck through my hair, tickled me, causing me to giggle a bit as I turned around in his arms to face him.  
A fake serious look on my face warned him to stop his ministrations for the moment. “And what if it's a boy?”, I questioned, quizzically raising an eyebrow, and lay a hand on his unclothed chest, caressing the scars there, feeling the vibration as he spoke, chuckling: “We'll cross that bridge when we get there.” A playful kiss was placed on the tip of my nose, and I sealed his lips with mine, basking in his absolute faith in me and the survival of this child. If we get there, I had wanted to correct him, but he effectively stopped me from saying anything more as he pulled up the hem of my nightgown, separating is lips from mine just for a moment to ask: “Is this alright, lass?” to which I replied with a slight nod and a smile.

Laying on his side, he cupped my cheek first, pulling me to him in a searing kiss, then roaming along the length of my body, through the valley between my breasts, along the left side of my belly to the crease where my hip met my thigh, his fingers dancing on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh as he teased me. It wasn't the first time during my pregnancy that we did this, but I could still see the hesitation on his face, could see he was scared he might hurt our child making love to me. I could see that even he, hard as he might seem to some, could not bear the thought of losing a child to this kind of recklessness. So far, everything had gone well, but there was no guarantee that it would every time, and I understood his fear. It had taken a hold of me often enough, too.  
And so, instead of pushing him onto his back and sheathing him inside me – if, after all, something did go wrong, I didn't want him to blame himself –, I kissed him softly, the hand I had placed on his chest caressing its way downward, and I could hear his sharp intake of air as he gripped my hip, as though to let me know he enjoyed what I did despite me not having done anything yet. I heard him quietly sigh as my fingers reached his member and decided to press my lips to his in order to silence him as to not arouse suspicion if we became too loud. He might be the captain, but to the crewmen I was still the adulterous slut pregnant with a child that wasn't her husband's. I didn't need to give them more to wag their tongues about.  
It was a slight caress at first, nothing more than feeling the velvety skin, the pulsing veins, the hardening as I continued my ministrations. It gave me confidence knowing that, despite my condition, I still had this kind of power over him and his desires, and, smiling into the kiss, I slightly bit his lower lip as I finally took a hold of him, slowly pumping him, feeling his hips buck into my touch. I could feel the wetness pooling between my own thighs just knowing that I could bring a seemingly ruthless killer to his knees with nothing more than a few kisses and well-placed touches. “You're killing me, love”, he rasped in between kisses, increasing the pressure of his lips on mine as though it were the only way to show what I was doing to him. I could feel it alright, the flexing of his muscles as I increased my speed, the groaning swallowed by our kisses, his feverish caresses of my thighs, hips, my buttocks. Were it not for fear of losing this child, too, I would have pulled him on top of me as I had countless times in New York, crossed my ankles behind his back, and let him have his way knowing that I would be thoroughly rewarded in return.

I was surprised as he pulled himself from my grasp in favour of moving downward, his lips never leaving my skin, moving from my lips to my jaw, down my neck, over one of my breasts, where they remained for a bit longer, his tongue and teeth teasing and playing with one nipple as his hand did the same to the other. He then moved further, placing deliberately soft and tender kisses to my stomach before reaching my core. At this point, I was squirming as he hooked his arms around my thighs to pull me closer to him, his tongue slowly coming into contact with my folds, effectively finding my sweet spot within seconds as his fingers slowly worked their way inside me. My hips rolled against him of their own volition, and his deep chuckling, acknowledging exactly this fact, sent shivers up and down my spine as I gripped his hair with one of my hands. Looking down at him, I could see that he was thrusting into the thin mattress for the least bit of friction, and knowing that he was as aroused as I was made me absolutely helpless.  
Clearly, it didn't take long for me to reach the edge of oblivion, his fingers curling inside me and tongue lapping at my folds, and I could feel my body tense under him, knowing that I would most likely try and kill him if he stopped now. Luckily, he never did. Quite honestly, I couldn't remember one time he had been selfish in bed, always making sure that we either came together or I reached my peak before him, for fear I might love him less if I didn't. As my breathing accelerated, I bit my lip to not moan out his name to everyone and anyone on the ship, my grip on Shay's hair becoming tighter by the second, urging him to go on as though he might stop. I could even feel his smile against my skin, satisfied with his work, as my walls began to flutter around his fingers, his pressure on my clit increasing just before my orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, pulsing through my body and leaving me a panting mess as I rode out my high. My mind was still spinning when Shay recoiled from me, his fingers still covered in my juices. He gave me a lusty smile as he licked them clean, but instead of insisting on finishing himself, he kissed me tenderly, letting me taste myself on his lips and tongue, mixed in with his very own taste.  
Due to his precarious pose, kneeling above me, propped up only on one elbow as his other hand rested on my cheek, it was easy for me to flip him onto his back, which made him yelp in surprise. “And what do you think you're doing, Mistress?”, he asked laughing, scooting away from the edge of the bed as he became aware of how narrow it actually was. I smiled at him deviously, dipping my head down to give him another soft kiss, and hummed: “You'll see.” I hadn't even finished my words before I began scooting down the bed, kissing his chest and abs here and there, and, when I arrived at his manhood, peppering kisses along his length, too.  
As I took its head into my mouth, I could hear Shay cursing under his breath, taking pleasure in the effect I had on him. I tasted some precum on him, which was a clear indicator that even when he was pleasuring me, he must have liked it, too, and I hummed in appreciation, knowing full well what it would do to him. I wasn't disappointed as he tensed beneath me, tangling his fingers in my hair in an attempt of caressing and controlling me at the same time. He must have realised, though, that that was a futile mission as I resisted the pressure, and settled for stroking the base of my neck with his thumb.  
It took a good few minutes for me to have him teetering on the edge, going just slowly enough to keep the tension and at the same time not granting him relief yet. This was the part I loved most about this kind of lovemaking; it granted me more power over him, which he accepted gladly and eagerly, always encouraging rather than commanding me. Before him, I hadn't been used to this, having given my maidenhood to Sean, who had never been particularly attentive in bed, and it had come as quite the surprise to me when Shay and I first lay with each other that sexual pleasure didn't just mean not having pain. And so, it had come naturally to me, pleasuring him, as if to thank him for his generosity.  
When I added suction and began swirling my tongue around his tip, I could hear him fall apart. He didn't scream – we were both far too conscious of the fact that everyone would hear – but failed to suppress a primal groan that went right to my core as I swallowed his seed. I loved feeling the tensing of his muscles, loved how he kept praising me under his breath, lost in the sensation. I loved it because I loved him.

When I woke in the morning, Shay was gone again. I could hear him barking commands at some of his crewmen, then the door opened and I sat up in the bed, watching him enter with a cup of milk and a few pieces of rusk in his hands, sending me a small smile as he set both down on the desk. “It's not much, but it's some kind of breakfast”, he confessed and beckoned me toward him. I followed inadvertently, my bare feet hitting the floorboards almost silently as I headed to sit on his lap. “How are you feeling?” His left arm came around my back and he placed a small kiss on my shoulder as I proceeded to smell the milk. Goat's milk. It was the only type one could get here, the crew keeping three goats below deck to provide such, but it was better than nothing. An acquired taste, to be honest, but it could be worse.  
“Fine”, I nodded, taking a sip of the milk. “But what about you? You've only slept for a few hours.” My free arm went over his shoulder when I began lovingly stroking his hair. “If it's because I said I wanted to get home early, this is not what I meant.” I didn't want him to risk his health just to get me to Galway sooner rather than later, not when there was someone who'd be dying to meet him soon enough.  
I caught him shaking his head. “Don't worry about me, love. I just want to see you safe as soon as possible, and if that means losing some sleep, so be it.” There was no arguing with him in that respect, so I didn't. Instead, I emptied the milk and honestly looked forward to a proper breakfast of brown bread and cheese once I was on dry land again.

For what felt like forever, life aboard the Morrigan just trickled by, and I was slowly growing afraid that we'd lost our way when I heard the lookout yelling “Land ho” from the crow's nest. I rushed to the railing immediately, catching a glimpse of the coast I has hoped to see for the past weeks and loudly laughing at the sight of it. I then joined Shay at the helm, Gist stepping aside discreetly to give way to me, and shook him by the arm, making him laugh as he was jostled. “It's still half a day's journey”, he tried to temper my enthusiasm, but he failed miserably, still laughing as I pulled him down to pepper his cheeks with kisses. Home. We were finally home.


	2. Chapter 2

I had never felt this strong before. Training with the mentor Auditore had proven effective as well as straining, and everyday my muscles were sore and I fell asleep immediately after laying down. I'd never been this exhausted, but it was good, so good, with the mentor always being there to help us improve, not only pointing out our shortcomings but showing us how to avoid making the same mistakes again. I'd never seen anyone this patient.  
Then again, I didn't have much to compare him with. After moving to Rome with my parents when I was little, father had become severely stressed, and mother had been tailoring all the time to keep us afloat when father's farmacia didn't bring in enough money because noone could afford medicine any longer. It hadn't taken long for me to take up pickpocketing to make life easier for us – which had led me into the clutches of the Borgia soldiers, who'd had all types of vile punishments in mind for me, from cutting of my right hand to... well, sharing me. It had been just when they were closing in on me that Ezio and his recruits had shown up and saved the day. I'd been in his employ, if one wanted to call it that, ever since.

As sparring was scheduled this morning, we paired up as usual, and I deliberately picked a strong partner to prove myself and perhaps move up in rank faster. Ernesto, as he was called, was tall, with broad shoulders and a kind smile – and for the next few hours, he was my enemy. I'd taken off my coat for training, as had he, and we'd gone at it for at least four times when Ezio noticed our ferocious fighting, him using his brute strength and me weaselling my way out of his grips again and again until Ernesto was so exhausted that is was easy to knock him off his feet. As I stood, towering above him, I stretched my hand out to offer him assistance in getting back up, looking up from my partner's face only when I heard slow claps from behind me. After helping him up, we both turned around to see our mentor standing there, bemused by our fight and perhaps even more so by its outcome, laughing brightly at us.  
“Gianna”, he called out, “come spar with me.” I looked around reluctantly, scanning Ezio's face for a sign that he didn't mean what he had just said, but all he did was order the other recruits to keep sparring. “Will you be fighting without your robe outside, too?”, he asked, and I understood, quickly putting it on and closing the buttons on the front, pulling the hood into my face until it was hidden. With an appreciative nod, he got into fighting position, and I mirrored him, lifting my arms into a defensive gesture to protect my face.  
It didn't take long for him do launch his first attack; running up the wall and then using the high ground to perform an attack on me, I was barely able to evade defeat. Having thwarted his first attempt, though, I was so pleased with myself that I let down my guard and Ezio, having theatrically fallen to the ground, kicked out my legs from under me and held his blade close to my neck. “Dead.” I nodded, accepting his hand as I stood up. “Go on, try that on me, too”, he prompted, and I acquiesced, working up the speed to run up a few meters of the wall next to us, and jumped off, only to have my own attack woefully cut short by a strong hand plucking me out of the air and throwing me to the ground. “Only do that when you have the moment of surprise. You're too small to bring someone down with just your weight.” I huffed, shuffling back to my feet and pulling the hood back over my head, as it had been knocked off quite impressively. I could feel the stares of my fellow recruits burning in the back of my head, the first strands of the hair I had meticulously pulled into a braid beginning to fall into my face. This was bloody exhausting, but exhilarating at the same time. We went at it over and over again, and each time ended with me having to yield to him, be it on the ground or pressed up against a wall. I stood no chance.  
This time, I kept my guard up, evading his hits, one after the other, listening to his playful taunts of “Come on, don't let me do all the work!” and “Scared of being beaten by an old man, are you?” and not letting him under my skin. When he got close enough, I diverted one of his hits into an arm-lock, standing behind him as he roughly bumped into me, trying to knock me back to the ground again. With the wall behind me, I remained standing, using the leverage to blatantly jump him. We both tumbled to the ground, and Ezio laughed as I held my blade to his neck triumphantly, clearly pleased with myself. Again, he used just this moment, and I felt my dagger being pulled from my boot as he flipped us and held it out with me on my back beneath him, earning us wolf whistles and cheers from the others. “Never let down your guard”, he warned me and I nodded once more, letting out another frustrated huff as I took my dagger back, shoving it into my boot again, flipping off the other recruits. “You'll have to work a bit harder than me to get that girl on her back”, he barked at them, gesturing for them to keep training.  
Blushing, I mumbled, “That wasn't necessary”, which made the mentor laugh half-heartedly. He nodded in the direction of the door. “Yes, it was. Walk with me.” It wasn't a question, so I followed his order, pushing the hood off my head and walking behind him until we were outside on the Isola Tiberina. I didn't take my eyes off him, though, distrustful of why I was receiving this special treatment, and as he began clambering up the houses, I followed him, nimbly swinging past him at some point and reaching the rooftop before him. I held a hand out to him, mocking how he had done the same each time he'd knocked me into the dust, and he took it, letting me pull him up until we both stood safely on the shingles.

The wind and the fighting beforehand had loosened some more of my hair, and I felt the mentor's gaze upon me as I fiddled with the braid that fell freely past my shoulder to my chest. “So?”, I asked, clearly uncomfortable with the way he stared, attempting to smooth my hair back into the braid as best I could. He took a moment to answer, “The Borgia guards know you, no?”, to which I silently nodded. They did, though not as well as they wanted to. I quizzically followed his every move as he sat down and gestured me to do the same. “I'll need your help in taking over another area of Roma”, he said, making even less sense than before. He'd spent the last hour demonstrating to me how I was not ready for serious combat, and now he wanted me on a mission that I would most likely screw up?  
“If you want me dead, you can have that much more easily.” I shrugged, looking over my shoulder to him, growing more distrustful by the second, watching as he shook his head. “You don't understand. I need you to create a diversion for the Borgia captain so I can clear out the streets”, he explained, and I got up, disgusted with what he'd implied.  
“If I wanted to be pimped out, I'd have become a courtesan, thank you very much.” As I got up, he took a hold of my ankle, pulling me back down. I yelped in surprise, pretty sure I'd heard something crack as I hit the roof again. “I said no, mentor. So excuse me, please, but I'm done talking to you”, I said through gritted teeth, pushing myself back up with my arms to find the fastest way downward in order to pack my bags and leave. I'd just found a suitable window frame as I heard his voice again: “They're evicting your father from his farmacia, Gianna. If we do this, he can keep his shop and people will actually be able to afford buying their medicines there again.”  
With a groan, I turned back around towards him. If my buffoon of a father could have just kept his job working on the farm in Tuscany, none of this would have happened and, who knew, I might even already be married with kids. It was the thought of my mother alone and unprotected, though, that made me stay; if father wasn't able to pay his rent, after all, he would probably be going to prison or worse. “That is emotional blackmail”, I stated, and the mentor nodded. “But I'll do it. Not for you, though, you've made enough of a fool of me for one day.”  
I saw him shrug and tilt his head to one side. “I'll take what I can get”, he laughed, gesturing for me to sit again, which I did. I was careful to keep my distance this time, though. “We'll need you to be your usual charming self and get into enough trouble to be taken to the Captain.” I listened, nodding or humming in agreement at opportune moments. “Once you're with him, we'll start clearing out the area, getting civilians to safety, disposing of the guards.” I was still sceptical of this whole concept of me being the diversion, but thinking back on the reputation that preceded the man, I understood why it was me rather than a male recruit to be sent in. “And when we're done, we're coming for you. Lead him to a window and we'll take care of the rest.”  
Simple enough, I thought. Boy, was I wrong.

As I was carried in by Ernesto, the mentor cleared a table for me to be treated, and I heard him commanding me to stay still before I even was aware I was on the table. I felt the familiar sensation of blood trickling down from my eyebrow, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in my thigh, where the Captain's blade had struck me deep enough to cause a deep gash in my flesh. My consciousness was dwindling, and I heard myself cursing without being aware I was even moving my lips. “Porca miseria! I told you so, I fucking told you so!” As someone shoved a leather strap between my teeth, I must have bitten their finger first, resulting in an infuriated “Cazzo” from them, but I honestly couldn't care less.

The next thing I remembered was waking up in the infirmary, my mind still blurry from whatever it was they'd dosed me with to keep me quiet. On the far end of the room, I could see the mentor sitting at a desk, making notes of whatever, and it all came rushing back to me. The Captain, disgustingly close so I could smell the stench of whatever drink it was he fancied these days, his hands groping me, pushing me up against the wall. I could still feel the grip he'd had on my neck every time I swallowed, could feel the bruises from fighting back against him on my arms and knees. I remembered his dagger failing to find my gut, cutting almost clean through my thigh instead, and I remembered the blood that had been everywhere all of a sudden, some of it mine, some his. Highly unsanitary.  
I blinked once, twice, trying to think of what had happened before. Yes, something had gone wrong outside, I recalled, someone had rung the alarm, and the Captain had seen right through me when I fought for his attention over what was going on outside his doors. I was no longer the felon trying to get out of her punishment, but Assassin vermin, and he had treated me as such. “Water”, I rasped, wondering how long I must have been out for my mouth to become this dry. Then again, they'd probably drugged me, so I didn't know what I expected. I heard someone shuffling next to me and handing me a cup, tried to sit up in order to not spill it all over myself like a toddler. It was good, though, drinking something, and I downed the entire cup. “More.” At this point, I actually realised the person next to me was cheerfully talking to me.  
“You've been out like a light for three days and two nights. Alessandro and Umberto were already taking bets if you were ever getting back on your feet again”, he happily chattered. “So glad to have you back, though. Training's not the same without you.” I smiled bewilderedly and nodded, taking a sip from the second round. “You've been carved up like a roast beef, you know. We fixed you up rather well, it will leave a scar though.”  
I chuckled quietly, adding: “I'm aware of that. I was there when it happened.”, which seemed to quiet him down quite efficiently. “I don't mean to be rude. I just need a moment, bene?”, I asked, and Ernesto nodded understandingly, getting up from his chair and silently leaving the infirmary.  
“He likes you, that one. Didn't leave your side whenever he wasn't training”, Ezio commented, and I painfully rolled my eyes, my head aching from dehydration. “Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not here to make friends”, I snapped, the long time of being asleep clearly having removed what little filter I had left.  
The mentor laughed, getting up from his desk and coming up next to my bed, sitting down where my fellow recruit sat just seconds before. “I'm not speaking of friends”, he corrected, laughing even more as he saw my sneer at the idea of even being too close to babyface Ernesto. Yes, he had been kind to me, he was fun enough to be around, but a relationship was definitely not what I saw for the two of us, what with him being a good couple of years younger than me. He then changed course, though, growing more serious as he pushed back the blanked to examine the cut. It was only then that I realised they'd unceremoniously cut off my trousers for easy access, and I huffed. Great. I'd have to run to mother again, and that after this whole ordeal. She'd never let me go back here. “You were rather brave back there, sai?”  
I took another sip of water as though to avoid needing to answer immediately. I hadn't been brave for what I remembered. “I kept my eyes on the mission, that's all”, I brushed him off. “What anyone would've done.” Watching him shake his head, I raised my eyebrows questioningly, waiting for him to explain.  
“Most others would've panicked and gone straight for the kill... and been killed in the process.”  
I cocked my head to the side, gesturing towards what would become a quite impressive scar despite cauterisation and stitches: “I came close enough, don't you agree? From what I remember, I was bleeding like a pig.”  
Ezio laughed, nodding as he leaned on his elbows. “You'll be a great Assassin one day. You just need a bit... refinement.”  
I stared at him, incredulously, pretty sure that this was the first time he'd actually acknowledged my potential for greatness, and I nodded gratefully, too stubborn to say anything in thanks. As he realised just that, I heard him say, “You're a tough one, vero?”, and nodded, adding, “Always have been.”, making him laugh again in return. For someone of his background, he was sure light-hearted. Then again, who was I to judge. “For what it's worth, the Captain is dead as can be and your father's shop is still his. The mission was a success.”  
Satisfied with this, I lay back into the pillows, consciously trying not to flex my leg too much, wondering what Ezio was still doing here. “I don't think I'd have gone in there in your position”, he admitted and stood up. “For that, I'm promoting you. Rejoin us for training in three days' time, Initiate, I promise we won't go too hard on you. Now rest.” He turned around without seeing my smile, leaving just as silently as Ernesto had before.

Days later, I found my robes adorned with one more blade than before on the belt, and smiled to myself.  
Hopefully I wouldn't have to almost die for my next promotion.


	3. Chapter 3

I had begun going by Rebecca by now; if not for myself, surely for the sake of integration among the townspeople, who would surely not be excited to call me by the name my parents had given me. Wathahi:ne was good and fair, but the English-speaking people here were likely more than thankful that I had decided not to insist on it, just as Connor had adopted the name of Achilles' son. With none of us having a last name to adopt, as my husband thankfully had never taken his dreadful father's name, we had styled ourselves as the Davenports, as Connor had been closest to family to the old man in his last years. With us living here, it seemed just right we assume his legacy.

I had never been an obedient housewife type, to say the least. Most of the time I accompanied Connor when he was out hunting, only staying behind when he was on Assassin business trips and wanted to see me safely at home with at least two of his recruits watching over the homestead. It was a trip like that from which he was returning this time, as always announced by the recruits leaving their posts and the door briskly opening, bringing a gust of wind with it. This was my favourite part of his trips; the homecoming. I hated how he usually left before I even got up, leaving nothing but a kiss on my cheek and a note, and I hated the waiting, the insecurity if, this time, he would be coming home at all.  
I was on him within seconds, my skirts flying behind me as I ran towards the door, ignoring what little luggage he was carrying and melting into his arms without hesitation. I could feel him doing the same, burying his face in the crook of my neck and hugging me tightly as though he was never letting me go again. And, honestly, I never wanted him to.

As usual, I'd watched him unpack, listened to his tales of New York, where he'd been, enjoying the sound of his voice more than what he was saying, speaking of a Mr. Hamilton, whose wife was now pregnant with their third child, of the new mood in the city and of the rising political activism there being practically contagious. After he was done, I continued updating him on what had happened here while he was gone, showing off the new dress Ellen had tailored for me, raving about Myriam and Norris' children and sharing Ollie's latest drunken accident. By the time we were both done, all lights outside had died down, and I found myself terribly exhausted from all the excitement, even though I hadn't shared the biggest news yet. After all, I wasn't even sure how Connor would react, knowing he's had a rocky relationship with his own father, to say the least.  
I'd washed my face before going to sleep, my nightgown flowing in the soft breeze coming from the still open window which I closed when I passed it. It was bound to grow cold in these parts at night, and I wasn't going to risk Connor falling ill if I could help it. Slipping into bed, I blew out the candle and cuddled up to him, though I suspected he was already asleep. It was only when he pulled me closer that I knew he wasn't, and I smiled at the feel of his skin against mine, finally feeling at home in this house that was much too large for me alone when he was gone. “So what are you keeping from me?”, he asked matter-of-factly, and I was taken aback by his insight. When I didn't answer immediately, I felt his hands at my waist, holding me steady as though to keep me from running of as I had when we'd first met. “Come on, it can't be that bad”, Connor insisted, and I gulped audibly, grasping his hand and guiding it to my already slightly swollen belly; something he would've been bound to realise sooner or later, once he'd regained the energy to make love to me in the morning.

What I heard scared me, because I heard nothing. No gasp, no sobs, no laughter, just plain and utter silence, as I explained, “I'm expecting your child, darling.”, laying my hand on his cheek in what was meant as some sort of reassurance and comfort. “And I am absolutely sure that you'll be the most wonderful father to it.” More silence, except for deep, ragged breaths, until I felt something wet on the palm of my hand, realising only after a few seconds that it had to be tears. Connor, my big, bad, muscular husband with the killer glare, was crying.  
In response, I peppered his cheeks with feather-light kisses, hugging him to my chest as his silent tears turned into full-on sobs, struggling not to cry with him. I caught myself stroking his hair, quietly humming a lullaby to calm him, even rocking him a bit as I did. It took him a good couple of minutes to quiet down again enough to form a complete sentence: “How long have you known?” I had expected for him to express doubts, to do or say something to acknowledge what had just happened, but realised he would open up about it when it was time and he was ready.  
His hand back on my stomach, he seemed more interested in the details, though. “The nausea began before you left, but I didn't want to burden you on your mission, so I kept quiet”, I explained calmly, expressing no regret about not having told him sooner.  
I was immediately rewarded with him pulling away from me, only an inch or two, since I could still feel his warmth. “But that was over a month ago! I could have died not knowing about this!”, he complained, quiet enough not to startle me, but vehemently enough to let me know he was actually hurt rather than angry.  
To which I, naturally, tried to respond with reason in an attempt to remain level-headed. I didn't want to fight, nor did I want him to sleep on the couch over this, not in the first night we'd had together in a long time. “And you would have been distracted on your mission. I didn't want you to die on account of me not being able to shut up.” Before he could argue, I added, “And I wasn't even sure yet. I could've just been sick, and how would you have liked that?”  
I heard him huff, probably grappling with the fact that I hadn't intended to withhold the truth from him rather than keep him from overthinking when he should have been concentrated. “Fine.”, I heard him grumble, scooting closer to me again to place a kiss on my forehead. “Let's talk this over in the morning.” To which I nodded, nuzzling the crease of his neck, basking in his distinct musky scent and feeling him protectively drape his arms around me.

I woke to my husband staring at the tiny bump that had formed in the past weeks, his thumb stroking just below my belly button. “What is it?”, I asked mumbling, still sleepy. He started a bit at that, probably not expecting me to be awake at this time, but I didn't comment on that.  
“What will we name it? I mean, we both go with English names, but... you know.” I nodded understandingly, turning to lay on my back and reaching for his hand, caressing its back with my thumb. It was still hard to comprehend how a man like him, who seemingly could go undaunted by anything, could fall apart at the seams at the prospect of fatherhood. It was just part of his unique softness, I supposed at this point, but it made him all the more endearing, human. I would be lying if I said I didn't love how vulnerable he was from time to time. “Well, we can clearly name it after your mother if it's a girl, and go with Ziio.”  
His face lit up when he heard, and I saw him not enthusiastically, lifting the hand I had taken and kissing the back of mine. “I would like that very much.” And he did. I could see it, the bright shining in his eyes, the slight smile curling his lips as he imagined holding our little Ziio in his strong arms. “And if it's a boy?”  
I shook my head. “Then we'll figure it out.” Internally, I knew he was hoping for a baby girl already, a little princess to protect and show around, someone's cuteness to fawn over. I couldn't care less, to be honest, if it was a boy or girl, as long as they were healthy and had his eyes, his sense of what was right and wrong, his softness.  
There was no question of whether he even wanted this child. I was aware of the fact that I had sprung this on him, but there was just no way for us not to conceive a child when we lay with each other as often as we had over the past year whenever he was here – I had been more or less surprised by the fact that it had taken this long, but quickly assumed that it was because Connor had often pulled out when we hadn't been married yet. It had been the more honourable thing to do, if there was such a thing in that situation, and I had been grateful enough for it. The last thing I'd wanted was carrying a dead warrior's illegitimate child; now, if something should happen, I had the recruits who would protect us and a name for the child. It was a completely different situation, and I was the happiest I'd been in quite a while. Who, carrying the child of the man they love, could help but be happy about it?

His sweetness hadn't changed after our first time together. Having been each other's firsts, we'd spent most of the time asking if this was alright or if we liked that, testing the waters as we went along. He still did that, especially when he wasn't sure how I was feeling, and I half expected him to place the first sweet kisses on my neck, with which we usually started off. Instead, I watched him get out of bed after a short peck on the lips, almost disappointed. “You know we wouldn't hurt the child if we...”, I implied, but Connor shook his head, putting on his shirt and trousers and opening the bedroom door.  
“I'll get us some breakfast”, he announced, to which I let myself sink back into the pillows, burying my nose in his and inhaling his scent. The door closed, and I felt myself dozing off again.


	4. Chapter 4

It was already late at night when I felt Shaun slipping into bed, careful not to wake or jostle me in the process. He failed, as usual, since even the slightest movement of the mattress was enough to wake me up, but as always I pretended to still be asleep as to not undermine his confidence. It was only when I felt him stroking my arm that I mumbled, “You work too much.”, turning over to face him, my eyelids heavy from being too damn tired.  
He had taken off his glasses and set them on the bedside table, his chest exposed to the night air; no, Shaun was clearly not the most muscular guy, but I had never cared about that, having loved him for his brains long before our relationship had turned romantic, enjoying getting a rile out of him by making daring historical statements rather than shamelessly flirting. He hadn't even bothered putting on his pyjamas, I noted, indicating that he was most likely terribly exhausted himself. “Then you'll be happy to know I got tomorrow off”, he announced, and I sent him a sleepy smile in response, nodding. “I only thought it right and proper with it being our anniversary and whatnot.” I chuckled a bit at his commentary, pleased that he at least remembered that after forgetting my birthday a few weeks ago. He was clearly trying to do better this time.

I wasn't used to waking up before Shaun, but seeing as he'd had about ten hours of sleep during the last five days, I understood how he had some catching up to do. So, instead of waking him up, I sneaked out of bed and put on one of his shirts on my way to the kitchen, closing the bedroom door to make sure the rustling and clattering of pans and plates wouldn't wake him up before I was ready. He deserved to sleep in for once.  
With two pans, five eggs and a pack of bacon, I got to work, opening the kitchen window so the whole apartment wouldn't be filled with the smell of breakfast. Grabbing a can of baked beans from the shelf, I got a pot to heat them up in, diligently watching as the bacon turned crispy and preparing the eggs according to my own recipe – scrambled eggs, seasoned not only with salt, pepper and herbs, but also with parmesan cheese. Whenever I'd gotten to make them for Shaun and I, he'd enjoyed them very much, and having him here this morning was more than enough reason to do him this tiny favour.  
As expected, I heard his padding steps just as breakfast was about to be ready, and smiled internally. This hadn't changed since University, I remembered, and was absolutely sure that he had to have some internal clock telling him when food was about to be served. “Morning”, he greeted in a grumble, and I sauntered over to him, giving him a peck on the cheek before reaching past him and turning on the coffee machine. “You're up early”, he commented, which caused me to raise my eyebrows at him.  
“Have you looked at the clock? You slept in, and I can't blame you for it”, I countered, placing my hand on his chest for just a moment, smiling brightly at him. I sincerely wished every day could be like this, but ever since he'd gotten involved with the Assassins, he was all work most of the time, making me cherish our few quiet moments even more. “Now don't get defensive. I'd rather you set the table so I can watch the bacon.”  
I heard him huffing in response before grabbing the plates from the counter, opening the drawers to fish out two forks, spoons and knives, and systematically placing it all on our table. I'd missed this, to be honest. I'd missed these normal everyday domestic moments that every couple seemed to have on a regular basis – every couple but us. He must have noticed me watching over my shoulder, because once he was done, he placed his hands on his slender hips, mockingly asking, “Is this alright, ma'am?”, a challenging look on his face. I'd even missed his sarcasm.  
“No one could've done it better”, I praised him, just as mockingly, and began carrying the pans to the table one after the other. “Come on, sit. I'll get the coffee.” He didn't hesitate to sit down, watching me getting mugs and teaspoons, sugar and milk, the pot with the beans. I could only imagine what he was thinking: If he hadn't gotten involved in this nasty Assassin business, this might be our life, his life. After all, we were in our mid-thirties by now, and I could remember the talk from years ago quite clearly, remembered him stating how he didn't want to endanger me more than was absolutely necessary, thus elaborating on the fact that children, making us even more vulnerable and practically having targets on their backs, were off the table for us. I remembered him saying that, if that was a deal-breaker for me, I was free to go and he wouldn't blame me. Up to that day I never thought it wouldn't be, but I had always loved him more than the idea of a family with a man that wasn't him, so I stayed, taking up a teaching position at a local high school and spending most of my workdays dressing down pubescent teenagers with raging hormones, thus reminding myself that it wasn't all that bad not to have children.  
Once I had poured the coffee, I sat down with him and we began eating, pondering what we could do with his first free day in what seemed like forever. Since everyday was a day off during summer break for me, I was completely flexible concerning plans as long as I got to take a shower first. “D'you have a plan for today?”, I asked, pouring myself my second cup of coffee and mixing in some milk and sugar.  
Shaking his head, he replied, “Disappointingly enough, no, I don't. Though there is a brilliant new exhibition at the local museum of anthropology.” I watched him look at me in question, still mulling it over.  
After a few seconds, I took a sip of my freshly poured coffee, taking all the time I needed. “If we can have a quiet night in after, I'm game”, I announced, smiling brightly at him. It hat been far too long, after all, that we had even fallen asleep together, watched a film, had a nice dinner.  
Though a quiet night in wasn't exactly what I had in mind, and I could see from his gaze that he was probably thinking the same.  
Standing up and gathering the plates and cutlery, I noticed Shaun doing the same with the mugs and the pot where the beans had been, sending him a short but grateful smile as I walked past him. “You don't need to do that, you know.” I heard him huffing indignantly, quietly chuckling to myself, expecting one of his famous outbursts.  
“Of course I do, we both live here. This isn't the fifties, I don't need you slaving in my kitchen.” Aaaaand there it was. I set down the plates on the counter, turning around to get the next handful of things. Instead of getting to the table, though, I felt my boyfriend practically shove me away from it. “Never took you for the housewife, darling. Go on, get ready for the museum, I'll take care of this.” Sensing that I was about to object, he lifted his index finger. “No buts.”  
I sighed, knowing that arguing this with him would ruin our chances of actually spending a nice day together, moved toward him, instead, and gave him a soft kiss on the lips, smiling happily. “Works every time”, I said in a honeyed voice before making a run for the shower, leaving him behind, staring bewilderedly after me.

On a Shaun scale from one to ten, his touchiness today equalled a nine and a half. Though my partner had never been the type for great public displays of affection, I caught him reaching out for my hand or snaking his arm around my waist at nearly every showcase, returning the favour in kind by laying my head on his shoulder or just slightly jostling him by sideways bumping my hips into his. It was quite obvious, though, that we were just at the museum as to not having spent our entire anniversary at home, and I listened patiently as he spoke of how the Romans would first sacrifice some wine before actually drinking, how they constructed their temples. He probably knew that I knew all these things already, having studied with him for the longest time, but seeing as it was in general a new kind of getting to know each other after having spent far too much time living side by side but not together, it almost felt right recounting the times we'd had together before his business had come in the way of our relationship. It helped me remember what studying together had been like, always trying to out-smart the other, wanting to come out on top if only to lord ones superiority over them. He'd always had the better scores on his exams, though, and part of me had wanted to hate him for it; the other part had stood in awe of his genius.  
We'd rushed back home after only two hours, giggling and whispering to each other like teenagers in love, and it was so ridiculously refreshing seeing Shaun shed his sarcasm for once that I, just for a few moments, forgot what had become of us over the past years. What had felt like a long distance relationship began feeling real again, real enough to shed my insecurities about us, real enough for me to reach out to him the second we made it through the apartment door.  
I didn't have to pull all that hard, though, since he must have had a similar idea, slamming both of us against the wall next to the door as we met in a heated kiss, his hands on my waist, pulling himself closer to me. I'd missed this, I realised, melting into his arms as though the last time had been yesterday, missed his touch, his attention, the feeling of being desired. But, having been with Shaun for the past decade, it felt more like coming home than anything else, dancing our usual, dorky dance on our way to the bedroom, bumping into pieces of furniture here and there as we impatiently undressed each other, tugging at each other's clothes, stumbling over our own feet trying to kick off our shoes and to keep moving at the same time.

It was just as elegantly that we tumbled onto the bed, giggling and laughing as we caught our breaths, and it was him who made the next step, fusing his lips to mine and placing a hand at the back of my neck, effectively burying it in my hair as he did so. I felt him quietly sighing against my lips before I heard it, felt his arousal growing, his body being so close to me that, if I held my breath, I would most likely be able to feel the beating of his heart against my chest. I did notice, though, that our makeout session was having effects on me, too, my body rising to meet his every time Shaun threatened to move even a millimetre away, my breathing becoming unsteady with every second we spent like this. It didn't take long for Shaun to grow impatient and flip us, giving his hands free reign of my body as I bent down to keep kissing him, unwilling to relinquish this long-saught contact just yet. Meanwhile, I felt him make good use of his unlimited access, his fingers pushing up the light bralette, his fingers playfully fondling my nipples, as I kept grinding on him, feeling him hard and ready against our respective undergarments.  
When I grew impatient, I pulled away, pulling the bralette over my head and tousling my hair in the process, and began palming his member before diving in for another kiss. I didn't stay on his lips for long, though, slowly working my way from there to his jaw, neckline, down his lithe torso until I reached the waistband of his boxers. Shaun surely didn't think I'd notice his sharp intake of air, the way his hand squeezed mine as I kissed and softly bit at the skin below his belly button. I did so for a few seconds, hoping to get a rile out of him, but as I succeeded, I yelped in surprise, having him on top of me again, pinning me down by the wrists. “Growing impatient, Hastings?”, I prodded, giggling like the school girls I was used to teaching, biting my lower lip as I looked into his eyes, which he narrowed at me.  
“I'm sure you'd rather this lasts a while, Campbell”, he commented, and I nodded in agreement, understanding. He was probably just as starved for human contact as I was, seeing as he had constantly been on edge during the last months, and it felt good knowing that he hadn't found relief with someone or something else when our schedules had just never aligned. So, yes, I understood that he wanted to draw this out for just a bit longer, even though he didn't put it into many words, kissing my neck and collarbones instead, hooking his fingers into my panties. He had never been the most romantic type of person in that respect, and I wasn't about to change that as I was quite similar and couldn't handle too much emotional talk, so we had always made do with physical activity and acts of service rather than great declarations.  
When I let Shaun pull down my underwear, it seemed almost appreciative how he looked me up and down, as though it was the first time he'd ever seen me naked. I'd looked sexier a few years ago, I remembered, having gained weight with growing duties, and stress, at the school and getting wrinkles around my eyes and the corners of my mouth, and I was also pretty sure my breasts had started sagging by now. I was, simply put, no longer the perky young woman he'd met in University, and having been able to keep him since was more of a privilege than anything else. As I moved to cover my breasts a bit, as though to stop his staring, he shook his head and moved my arms away, diving in to kiss my nipples instead, and I could feel him smile against my skin when my breath hitched at the feeling. I closed my eyes at the intensity of it, my body naturally finding his like the sea found the shore, even after a low tide, melting into his touch when he began massaging my centre.  
We didn't remain as such for very long, though, since it may have been rather gentlemanly of Shaun to deny himself pleasure before having done anything for me, but at the same time incredibly impractical, seeing how the last thing I wanted was wait for too long, even though before we had wanted to draw it out. After all, the day was still young, and we would still have time for other ways of pleasuring each other later, so I fumbled for the waistband of his boxers once more, pulling it down a few centimetres because that was as far as I got without bumping my shoulder into Shauns head, hoping he'd get the hint. He did, eventually, and I watched him take off his underwear, almost giddy from the excitement (which inadvertently reminded me of our first time, for which I'd had to have a drink to actually be at ease because I'd been crushing on him for longer than I had cared to admit), and pulled him to me the second he was done, feeling his body cover mine.  
“Condom?”, he asked, and I nodded hastily (No kids, I remembered), reaching for the bedside table as he pulled away again and opening the upper drawer, where we kept them. Shaun was quicker than me, though, and opened one in a swift movement, clearly just as impatient as I was, attempting to roll it on with what seemed to be shaky hands. So I took the condom from his hand and steadied myself, looking into his eyes once more as I rolled it onto his member before giving him a few tentative pumps and immediately feeling his body tense in response to my touch.  
He was on me quite quickly again after that, hooking his fingers into mine before carefully working his way into me, both of us groaning in unison once he was completely sheathed inside me. “God, I've missed this”, I heard him sigh as he pulled out again, starting us off with a slow, sensual rhythm, enjoying the drag of him against my walls, the slight fluttering every time he hit my sweet spot in the process. There was little I could do at the intense feeling of it but hold on to him, one hand resting in the nape of his neck as I hid my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Usually, I would've had some witty comeback to that (“And here I was thinking you're an atheist all these years” comes to mind), but for the moment, I was lost for words, enjoying the push and pull of our lovemaking, the closeness of it, Shaun's raspy breaths in my ears as he struggled to keep the pace. It was obvious he'd rather pound into me like a jackhammer, but we had an unspoken understanding that this wasn't the time and place for that, that he could still bend me over the desk in our study when we had too little time for actual proper sex. This, right here, was too valuable to waste on something like that now, the feel of his skin against mine better than raw need and lust. It was a completely different kind of rawness, a kind we had not been able to put into words except on a few occasions, when sleepy “I love you”s had slipped our lips without any filter or we'd spoken of buying a house in the suburbs together instead of living in our city apartment, of getting a cat or a dog and what we would name it, of a future together, something to look forward to. This was how most of our “I love you”s looked, every breath a declaration in and of itself, every kiss a promise.  
As the originally slow and steady strokes grew more irregular, I felt my self getting close to climaxing, my hand snaking between us to stroke my clit, the other pulling Shaun's face to mine in a kiss. “Close”, I mumbled against his lips, desperately trying to quiet myself and have the sound of my moans swallowed by our kisses. “So close.” Instead, though, Shaun pulled away a bit as if he were trying to provoke me into vocalising how good he made me feel, looking at me in satisfaction as my moans became groans, needy and raw, joining in with his own has his hips began jerking against mine, the arms he had propped himself up an shaking and ultimately collapsing, landing him on his elbows which were placed next to my head when my high hit me like a freight train, my walls contracting around him as I rode out my high. He joined in just seconds later, pressing his lips to mine and letting out a primal groan at the same time, his body stilling against mine in the end.  
We stayed like this for longer than any of us cared to admit, unwilling to let this moment of closeness slip through our fingers, unwilling to step back into the real world, until he began to soften and we knew the condom was going to slip off if we didn't dispose of it.

A few hours later, we'd ordered pizza and caught up on a handful episodes of Suits, and were content sitting on the couch and talking about basically everything and anything as he couldn't share too much of his work life. I had always understood that it was best I stay out of it, as had always been Shaun's wish, so I had. “So, I've been thinking of getting my doctor's degree”, I announced, still munching on a slice of pizza and stretching my legs out across his lap, enjoying the casual way his free hand began stroking them as though we'd die of withdrawal if we didn't find some kind of physical contact. “I could go teach at University, get away from all those pubescent teenagers. And the hours are better.” For a moment, Shaun just nodded, eyeing me with interest, a crooked smile appearing on his face.  
“Doctor Campbell sure has a ring to it”, he commented, and I didn't notice until it was too late that his hand had left my leg and reached inside his pocket instead. “But I, personally, like Dr. Hastings better.” As his hand reappeared, there was a ring in its palm, simple, with an elegantly set diamond on it, but the message was loud and clear, drowning out the sound the TV made and the sirens outside. “I know I haven't been around as much, but I've been looking for the right time and things were so hectic...”  
I set my pizza aside and wiped my hands on my sweats, smiling brightly at him as I scrambled to press a kiss to his lips, the fluttering in my chest not allowing me to say anything for a few seconds, threatening to make me sob instead. I had never thought marriage would be on the table for us after having been in this relationship for what seemed like forever without moving forward, and at some point I had given up on holding out for a proposal. All the more surprised was I at this, coming to sit on his lap, facing him, as I peppered his face with kisses. When I regained my speech, I reassured him, “Now's as good a time as any.”, hearing him let out a relieved breath as he smiled back.  
“Is that a Yes?”, he asked, and I challengingly cocked my head to the side. “Well, technically you haven't even asked yet, so...”, to which he instantly reacted by seating me on the couch beside him, scrambling off of it and, in doing so, going down on one knee. I had honestly not meant it this literally. At least this part with the kneeling since we weren't in the nineteenth century, but when Shaun did something, there was hardly ever any stopping him, so I let him take my hand and place a short kiss on its back before asking, “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”  
I didn't even need a heartbeat to think about it, throwing my arms over his shoulders as I nodded frantically, repeating “Yes” again and again as he got up from his kneeling position, sitting on the couch again and rubbing his free hand across my back.  
I watched his goofy smile widen as he shakily took my hand in his again, and noticed my own fingers shaking, too, as he slid the ring on my finger, staring at it for a moment afterwards, as though to let the view sink in so he would not forget it. It was only then that he looked back at my face, happily kissing me once more and wrapping his arms around my waist. “I promise I'll be around more often”, he said in between kisses, to which I shook my head, playfully meeting his nose with mine. “I'll be too busy studying.”  
“Then I'll have to make do with watching you study”, he replied, and I laughed. Even the thought of having him around more often made my fingertips tingle, and I couldn't wait for it.  
This was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after the first load of chapters, I'm looking to you. Feel free to drop comments on how you like the chapters or new ideas or basically anything you're thinking concerning my work, any input is appreciated!
> 
> Love, FanaticRuby


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